


The Voice

by lieutenant_hatshepsut



Category: Tyranny (Video Game)
Genre: Dark Fantasy, F/M, Jealousy, Muteness, Scarlet Horus, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-10
Updated: 2018-05-10
Packaged: 2019-05-04 22:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14602815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieutenant_hatshepsut/pseuds/lieutenant_hatshepsut
Summary: The Voices of Nerath welcomes her in his tent. The untouched fruits in the gilded vase, judging by the smell, began to rot. The Fitebinder steps inside, hearing a gentle whisper in her head:"Hello, our dear Fitebinder. We yearned for you, for your painful presence, for your ruthless questions".





	The Voice

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Paint it black](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10036379) by [lieutenant_hatshepsut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lieutenant_hatshepsut/pseuds/lieutenant_hatshepsut). 



The Scarlet Chorus adores the Voices of Nerat and believes that the Fatebinder has his favor. It's like a mark that is visible to every mad girl, to every pugnacious guy which wears red; the Disfavored spit under their feet and look askance while speaking to her. Verse immediately becomes a big shot among her own - at the camp she always have the best place by the fire and her cup is never empty. The Fatebinder also quickly catches the rules: throws rings into an empty helmet, when a fight begins, laughs at vomitous stories and swallows a vomitous swill which tastes like urine diluted with sour milk.

Cacophony always screaming, as if the camp is inhabited not by soldiers, but by merchants who had been cheated, but Scarlet Chorus always welcome the Fitebinder like an old beloved friend.

"You have something on your face," says the Chanteress with a beautifull eyes and a hair stiffes with blood.

Her gang laughs joyously; one of the girls, with a crooked teeth and a cheerful smile, generously shares shrunken apples.

"You go to the Voices," muttered Verse with full mouth, the juice flows from her chin. "Will we spend the night in the camp?"

The Fitebinder nods and hands over the strap of the travel bag to Verse.

She respond to greetings by throwing up a hand or pressing her fist to the chest. Because of the fires at evenings the Scarlet Chorus looks really scarlet.

The Voices of Nerath welcomes her in his tent. The untouched fruits in the gilded vase, judging by the smell, began to rot. The Fitebinder steps inside, hearing a gentle whisper in her head:

"Hello, our dear Fitebinder. We yearned for you, for your painful presence, for your ruthless questions".

He pours her wine and gives a glass to her, and then caresses her cheek with a cold glove.

"You're still angry. Of course, you're angry. Our jealousy was inexcusably volent. We are truely repenting".

The Fitebinder takes a sip. The wine should taste flawlessly.

"You cut out my tongue," she thinks angrily.

"We are repenting," The Voices of Nerath repeats. "Thit a great passion". 

And she somehow believes him.


End file.
